


Blake and Avon get Cracky

by Willa Shakespeare (AnonEhouse)



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Compilation What Compilation, Crack, Humor, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2014-03-04
Packaged: 2017-12-11 11:09:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 12,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/798030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonEhouse/pseuds/Willa%20Shakespeare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of 22 short ficlettes with the common theme of Blake/Avon cracky nookie. Most are implied and innuendo without any explicit action, but I rated it for the highest, to be on the safe side. The humor is more central than the nookie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Buying It

(If you are reading this on any PAY site this is a STOLEN WORK, the author has NOT Given Permission for it to be here. If you're paying to read it, you're being cheated too because you can read it on Archiveofourown for FREE.)

Avon shook Blake's supportive arm away from his waist, glared at Vila, who was goggling, open-mouthed, and wrapped the thin sheet tighter about his nude body. Then he glared at Blake, turning the temperature up from 'sear' to 'vaporize'.

Blake said, "Let's get you to the med unit and see..."

"You're not touching me again."

Blake sighed in exasperation and ran a hand through his hair. "Avon, I had to do it! We were under surveillance and couldn't teleport until Liberator returned to position."

Avon moved to stand toe-to-toe with Blake, making up for the slight difference in height with sheer fury. "You _had_ to do it! You've been screwing me figuratively since the day we met! You just couldn't resist doing it literally!"

"Avon! Damn it, I'd been worried about you, I'd been looking for you for hours!"

"And how the _Hell_ did you find me, _there_!"

Vila was looking rapidly from one man to the other, fascinated. They ignored him as usual, but for once he considered that an advantage.

"I pretended to be a buyer, you idiot! I told them my requirements..."

Avon lunged at Blake's throat, blanket flying off as he clamped down on Blake's windpipe, knocking Blake to the deck and clinging like a limpet. "I was a _customer_ there, you imbecile! Until some moron said he'd pay a fortune for a big-nosed, dark-haired man with a pretty arse!!" 

Vila blinked, drained the last of his jug of soma and adrenalin, looked at it, shrugged and bashed Avon over the back of the head with it. Avon collapsed, and Blake lay there, whooping for air.

Vila looked at Blake. " _I_ never pay for it," he said loftily as he walked out of the room.


	2. Deny Me Smut, Will You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (The characters refused to be sexy in several other fics, so I got my revenge on them here.)

Blake touched the arm of the first of the great golden idols lined up against the wall of the alien temple. Gongs and horns blew, and a dozen armed aliens dressed in uniforms showed up in moments, surrounding Blake and Avon. Blake reached for his gun, but paused, as the aliens, although excited, hadn't yet drawn theirs. "Avon! What are they saying!"

Avon listened intently and frowned. "Blake. You have profaned the Fertility God of the XXniilia. Unless you perform a sexual act with the nearest one of your species immediately, the punishment will be..." Avon made a slicing motion about groin-level.

Blake looked around desperately. More aliens were arriving all the time, ranks and ranks of them, all whistling and waving their tentacles in wild excitation. "Ah. Avon, you're the only one here."

Avon frowned. "Yes, well... oh, all right. Jenna would never forgive me if I didn't save it... I mean you." With a world-weary sigh, Avon dropped his leather trousers, and handed Blake a tube of lube from his pocket before bending over the knee of the Fertility God.

Blake blinked, and decided it was a very good plan. While he was busily atoning to the Fertility God (repeatedly) up Avon's backside, one of the uniformed aliens went up to Avon and whistle-chirped at him.

Avon grinned, and pulled the alien close enough to whisper in his ear. "It's a custom among Earth people to celebrate a jackpot at the slots this way. You can send the credits to my room."


	3. Forget-Me-Not

"Blake."  


Oh, hell. Blake rolled over, pulling the covers up over his whole head. When Avon called him _Roj_ , everything was sunshine and roses, while _Fearless Leader_ meant a more wicked sort of playtime, but _Blake_ -especially in that tone of voice- meant only one thing. His ass was grass. What had he done now?

He drew a deep breath, and steeled himself. He was famed throughout the New Federation for his courage, looked up to for his dignity and stern resolve, and in general thought of as a macho, take charge, sort of bloke. All very well and good when it comes to running a government, but not much use against a man who could pinch the way Avon did, and nag, and sulk, and... But on the other hand, he could cuddle with the best of them when he was in the proper frame of mind. That alone made all his negative qualities worth living with, and then there was the fact that they made such a romantic couple Blake would probably wind up President-for-Life. One thing the voters were certain of, is that nobody cheated on Kerr Avon and lived to tell the tale. Made a nice change from the previous administration. 

"BLAKE."

Reluctantly, Blake dropped the covers, and sat up, rising to face his doom. "Wha's madda?" he mumbled, prying his eyes apart far enough to see the love of his life, his adored and inseparable partner, the other half of his being- who was annoyingly alert, fully dressed, and bright-eyed. Insomniac bastard. Could at least have the grace to look a bit rumpled in the morning. Especially after the energetic night they'd put in, rumpling the sheets beyond repair.

Avon crossed his arms, and tapped his elegantly booted foot. This did not bode well. "Do you remember what today is?" he purred. Double damn, not the purr. Not so early in the day. He hadn't even had his coffee yet.

"Of course I do," Blake growled, putting quite a bit of dominant male into his tone. Never back down, never act uncertain, and never, ever show fear. He'd got that from a lion-tamer's guidebook. Had a lot of useful Avon-taming tips in it. He lunged, grabbed Avon around the waist, pulled him into the bed, and started tickling. No way the bastard could glare and giggle at the same time. Pulling up Avon's fastidiously tucked tunic and blowing into the revealed navel was also a good distraction, while Blake tried to think what day it was- besides Saturday. Let's see, it wasn't Dayna's birthday, nor Support Your New Federation Day, nor Deltas Against Domestic Violence Day, or even the day he'd promised to take Tarrant's two-year-old twins to the kiddie pool at Government House. Damn Avon's mousetrap memory- he remembered everything, and expected a poor, old, mindwiped, ex-rebel to do the same. He eliminated all the birthdays and decided it wasn't a public occasion either, as Avon had his _I'm hurt personally_ look on. That was three shades more sulky than his _you invented the bloody holiday, so you'd better remember it_ one.

So what else could it be? You'd think in three years of wedded _bliss_ , Blake would finally... ah. That was it. With a sigh of relief, Blake blew once more, and gave a last squeeze to Avonacquire them. It was embarrassing having to bail his beloved out of the hoosegow. Naturally, the arrest record always disappeared from the computer records in the morning, but it was the principle of the thing.

"I have yours, Roj," Avon said, with only a slight pout. Good, the bribe was accepted. Blake made a mental note to have the wiring checked. Last time Avon revved up all his toys at once, it blacked out the neighborhood for a week. "I got the idea from one of Vila's ancient cinemas," Avon said, leaning over the bed to ferret out a bulky box which was wrapped in "For Him" paper in brown and gold, with a perfectly tied bow exactly centered. "One of his favorite movies. I thought it was quite entertaining, although more likely to appeal to Delta audiences."

Blake flashed back to Vila, chortling on the Liberator's flight deck whilst watching _Cabin Boys in Bondage_. He winced. 

"While you never said anything, I have long suspected you harbor a secret desire to beat me," Avon said, smirking. Blake felt the blood rush from his head. No, that couldn't be what he thought. Avon was kinky, true, but not... Avon went on, blithely, " And it is especially appropriate because the third anniversary is Leather."

"Er. How lovely." Blake took the heavy package, and laid it down on the bedside table. "Thank you, Kerr. I'm sure I'll enjoy it," he said, lying through his teeth. "Let me just catch a shower and wake up first, all right?" He got up without waiting for Avon's answer and fled to the loo. He stood under the shower for a very long time, until he heard Avon knock at the door.

"Are you all right in there, Blake?" Avon asked. "Should I send out a rescue boat?"

So it was Blake again. Blake swallowed hard and decided to go along with it. Whatever it took to make Avon happy. After all, he did love the arrogant little sod. "I'm coming. I want to try out my new present." 

"I'll set everything up, Roj," Avon replied. "Don't be too long now. We'll have to hurry, if you aren't to be late for your appointment with the delegation from Kaarn."

Blake gulped again, thinking of whipping Avon's perfectly rounded, pink bottom. It did not excite him in the least, but if Avon wanted it, he'd try. He took a few minutes more to pull himself together, then put on a robe and strode out of the bathroom, head high, nostrils flared, in what he hoped was a fair counterfeit of barely contained lust. He got as far as the bedroom, and stopped dead.

Avon was lounging across the bed, fully dressed. This was not unusual in itself. Avon was a great lounger, given half a chance. The Scrabble board set up in front of him wasn't normally too unusual either, as they often played games in the evenings. Avon always won at word games, but when they played poker, things evened out. But Blake's mind could not come up with an erotic use for a Scrabble set, beyond playing dirty words Scrabble. Maybe he had led too sheltered a life. "Where's my present?" he asked, playing for time.

"I unwrapped it. I hope you don't mind," Avon said, pointing to the large, leather-covered, object resting against the pillow on Blake's side of the newly made-up bed.

In a daze, Blake went over to the bed and picked up his gift. "Webster's Encyclopedic Unabridged Dictionary of the Terran Standard Language?" He ran his hands over the fine-grained, smoothly finished binding. "It's beautiful, Kerr," he said, honestly. He'd always loved real books, from _The Hobbit_ to _Miss Seaton Sings_. In his relief that there would be no reenactment of _Cabin Boys in Bondage_ or its equally horrendous sequel, _Cabin Boys On the Loose_ , he chuckled and asked, "But what movie made you think of it?"

Avon grinned and said, "I'll have to educate you, I see. Have you never seen a Hope and Crosby _Road_ picture?" At Blake's head-shake, Avon responded by humming, then bursting into a mercifully brief snatch of song- "Just like Webster's Dictionary- we're Morocco Bound."


	4. Injustice Machine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've read quite a few stories about Avon and Blake's wedding. This isn't one of them.

The judge was an actual judge, this being the sort of case that tended to make judgment machines say 'This does not compute' just before erupting into clouds of smoke.

"As both actions were presented to the court simultaneously, and concern the same parties, it has been ruled that the cases will be tried as one."

Avon glared over at Blake on the opposition table, and Blake returned the glare. Orac sat on a dais mid-way between.

The judge cleared his throat and went on. "The divorce of Rojer Edward Blake and Kerr Aloysius Avon both seeking custody of the computer, Orac."

Avon mouthed 'Rebel'? and Blake mouthed 'Aloysius'. (On points, Blake was ahead here.)

Judge Judee ignored them. In a divorce action, she was inured to anything except flying crockery and aimed blasters. "Avon's case states desertion, while Blake's claims alienation of affection, with Supreme Commander Servalan listed as co-respondant."

"That's a lie," Avon shouted, rising to his feet. "I only kissed her for the sake of Blake's cause!"

Judee raised her eyebrows and made a note. "The Supreme Commander seems to back up that assertion. She is unavailable for direct testimony as she is conducting undercover exercises with the FSA graduating class, but her brief states, and I quote, 'Avon pretended sexual attraction towards me only in order to help Blake. I wouldn't be surprised if he has 'I heart Roj' tattoed on his cute little arse.' " She folded up the paper and looked at Avon. "The court would like to know that, too."

Avon flushed. "Surely that's not admissible as evidence!"

"No, I suppose not." The judge sighed. "I would have liked to know, though."

Blake rose to his feet. "Judge, you are showing bias!"

Judee's eyes roved over him. "Not at all. If you have any tattoos you would care to show the court, I would be equally interested."

Blake's hands fluttered down to his groin and he sat hastily. "I withdraw my objection."

"Pity." Judee shuffled more papers. "Now, as to the desertion charge..."

Blake popped back up again. "Your honour, that is absolutely not true! Avon sent me away whilst I was unconscious, and ignored all my messages asking him to return for me! He had my ship, and my computer and my crew!"

"Not all, you had Jenna, didn't you?" Avon said nastily. "I bet she didn't mind you eating crackers in bed!"

Blake flushed. "Jenna ran off with a mercenary pilot the week after _YOU_ kicked me off my own ship!"

"How was it your ship, when Jenna and I were there the day we salvaged it!"

"Because I saved your life that day!"

"Oh, and I haven't saved your sorry arse a dozen times since!"

Judee was looking from one man to the other, obviously enjoying the show. "Gentlemen, much as this amuses me, I do wish to remind you that this is a court of law, not a debating room."

Blake sat down. Avon had never stood up, so he merely settled further in his chair.

Judee continued. "You should have obtained counsel."

Both Avon and Blake scowled. "We've both had bad experiences along that line," Avon explained. "We felt we could hardly do worse, representing ourselves."

Judee sighed. "Very well. Blake, have you proof that your messages were received?"

"I do, your honour." Blake approached the bench with a data-pad. "Dates and locations sent, and Orac's time-stamp acknowledging receipt."

"What?!" Avon leapt to his feet and snatched the data-pad before Blake could hand it to the judge. He scanned it quickly and then turned to Orac. "Did _YOU_ betray me?"

Orac cleared its electronic throat. "Blake does not understand, Avon. He doesn't appreciate you, not the way I do."

"I'll fix you later, you plastic traducer," Avon snarled, before turning to face Blake. "I see it wasn't your fault. This time."

"What do you mean, 'this time'?" Blake said as he turned to face Avon. "You're always putting me in the wrong."

"You're always ignoring me!" Avon moved closer.

"You're supposed to be my helpmeet, damn it!!" Blake flung out his arms and took a step towards Avon.

"I try, but you never listen!" They were now nose to nose.

"Oh, bugger it!" Blake grabbed Avon and kissed him.

Judge Judee watched for several minutes before declaring court dismissed.


	5. Kinky When Wet

It was another of Blake's _brilliant_ plans, and as per usual, he'd left it up to Avon to make it work. "Straightforward," Avon muttered to himself as he crouched over the computer panel, protecting its interior from the steady stream of water coming from above. "Simple." The laser probe slipped from his hand. To retrieve it he had to kneel in the inch of icy water that flowed across the floor.

"It worked," Blake said from his position standing over Avon, using the huge, goose-turd green sleeves of his leather tunic to provide a little more shielding as his computer expert tried to convince the machine to give up its secrets.

"Oh, yes, marvelously. 'Set off the fire alarm, Avon, and then the base will evacuate'." Avon's red leathers were shrinking, and they were already tight to begin with. The fear of castration by crushing was making him very irritable.

"Well, they did evacuate," Blake said in that reasonable, honey-thick tone that Avon felt was totally unfair to use against him.

"You didn't mention the sprinkler-system!" Avon wiped his eyes, bashing himself in the nose with the retrieved laser probe in the process. Since his leathers were already ruined, he continued to kneel, the chill water working its way through to underpants, while he worked.

Blake chuckled. Avon wanted to stab him with the laser probe, or with...no. Mind on work. "There!" He jabbed the probe viciously into the contact point, and watched as data fed into his hand-held collector. "Done!" He sealed up the access point, and started to get up, probe in one hand, collector in the other. He couldn't move; the knees of the stiff red leather had locked in place.

Blake grabbed the collector and stuffed it down the front of his tunic. "Come on, Avon, stop playing around!"

Avon gritted his teeth and glared for a moment, before admitting his problem. "I can't."

Blake sighed. "We're going to have to get you a more practical wardrobe." He leaned down, put his arms around Avon and lifted him to his feet. "You're going to do yourself an injury one of these days." He fondled the tight swelling at the front of Avon's trousers.

Avon moaned and clung to Blake as his knees went weak. "Bastard."

Blake laughed and ran his hands around the slick leather covering Avon's arse. "Now, now, is that any way to talk to the person who always helps you when you need it?" He kissed Avon.

After a moment, Avon turned his face to one side. "We can't. The Federation staff... they could return at any moment."

"Then Jenna will teleport us to safety." Blake nibbled on Avon's neck.

"Are you mad? If she finds you've been two-timing her with _me_ of all people, she'll have both our balls for earrings! She can wear them alternate days!"

Blake chuckled again and ran his fingers suggestively up the rear crease of Avon's trousers. "Don't you find the hint of danger exciting?"

"No, not at all!" Avon moaned again.

"You are such a bad liar, Avon." Blake rubbed briskly at Avon's crotch. "Now, how do these open?"

"You should know!" Avon bit at Blake's throat.

"Ow! Oh, yes, I remember now." Blake got Avon's wet and clinging trousers open and tugged them down in painful stages.

"OW! Be careful, I'm attached to that!"

"So am I. Now shut up and cooperate for once." Blake handed Avon a tube of lube, marked with the Federation symbol. "A present. I know how you enjoy stolen goods." Blake grinned. "If it weren't for Jenna you wouldn't be interested in me, would you?"

"We all have our little kinks," Avon muttered as he began greasing Blake's cock.

Blake's grin widened. "Shall we compare kinks?"

"Later." Avon pulled a swivel chair over, got into it and adjusted it to his liking. "Let's get this over with before we die the big death."

"You are so romantic." Blake moved into place, tugging Avon and the chair until they were braced against a heavy piece of file storage.

"Shut up and fuck me." Avon got his legs over Blake's shoulders.

"Well, all right. Just this once. Because you asked so nicely." Blake entered Avon, and they both groaned. "Oh, Avon."

"I know... my name." Avon's voice was strained. "Will you please hurry?" He reached down to grab his own cock.

"I'm trying!" Blake began fucking Avon in earnest, chair squeaking, water pattering and splashing, leather making protesting sounds... and of course, they added their own noises. 

It was awkward and uncomfortable, and it excited the both of them terribly. A few minutes later, Blake bellowed and buried himself in Avon's arse, holding onto Avon's arms with a bone-bruising grip. 

"Blake! Please!" Avon squirmed and jerked at himself.

"Where would you be without me, Avon?" Blake asked as he wrapped his hand around Avon's and pumped him hard. Three strokes and Avon was off.

"AHhhh..." Avon closed his eyes and slumped in the chair.

Blake sighed, pulled out of him, made the both of them presentable, slung Avon's arm over his shoulder and pulled him to his feet. He spoke into his teleport bracelet. "Jenna, bring us up. Avon's done it again."

They appeared, dripping wet, in the teleport alcove, semi-conscious Avon draped over Blake. "Yes, I see he has," Jenna said acidly. "I used to think _Vila_ was clumsy, but this is the third time in a row Avon's got knocked out on a mission!"

"Yes, but he got the job done first," Blake said, smiling down at Avon. "I'll take care of him."

"Better you than me," Jenna said, heading for the flight deck to take Liberator to safer regions of space.


	6. Lost and Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was a challenge- I was given the first sentence as a starting point.

"Where do you think you are going with that?"

Blake resisted the urge to hide the offending item behind his back. "I was going to return it to its owner, if you must know." He blushed, even though he had innocently enough found it on the flight deck couch after Jenna's night watch.

Avon looked at the black lace brassiere, and held out his hand. "Give it to me."

"Why should I let you return it to Jenna…" Blake's blush deepened, as he realized Jenna must have had a reason to take it off.

Avon's eyebrows raised. "Who mentioned Jenna?"


	7. Snow Goose

Blake glanced up from the desk the local rebel cadre had loaned him. It wasn't often he was on an actual planet, with actual weather, and actual windows to look out at it. The snow was falling in heavy, lazy flakes so huge he was tempted to go outside and try to catch them on his tongue.

It wouldn't do, of course. Not only was he a grown man, and the leader of a rebellion, but Avon had come down with him and would laugh himself sick if he caught Blake being undignified. Blake sighed and turned his attention back to the plan for the Federation storage compound they'd come here to break into, rifle through, and then blow up. Just as well he'd inadvertently recruited criminals rather than idealists, although it also wouldn't do to tell Avon and Vila that.

"BLAKE!" Avon shouted from the doorway. Blake had just time to look up and see Avon standing there, face paler than normal, and dark eyes wide as saucers. _What the hell?_ Blake thought as Avon leaped across the room, barreled into him and knocked him to the floor, somehow managing to cradle Blake's head from impact with the wooden floor.

"They've set off a slow-acting neutron bomb!" Avon gasped. "Ashes. Ashes everywhere! We're dead men!" He tore frantically at Blake's shirt. "Please! Before we die, fuck me!"

Blake wasn't the sort to take advantage, no matter how tempting a target Avon's beautifully rounded arse was. He opened his mouth to explain the harmlessness of the meteorological phenomenon that Avon, as a Dome-raised Terran, had obviously never encountered. But he found his mouth full of Avon's tongue. And Avon's hands were deep in Blake's trousers.

And... oh, to hell with it. Blake stopped thinking. He didn't even wonder at the fortuitous circumstance of Avon having a tube of astro-lube in his back pocket (it was advertised as having 46 uses, Blake would have change that to 47). He moaned, obeyed instructions, and fucked Avon very thoroughly.

A few minutes later he was lying on the floor, dazed, when he heard the alarms. He instinctively got to his feet, tidied himself away and dragged Avon with him to the emergency meet-point. Avon was clumsier than normal, having to pull up his trousers as Blake hauled him along. 

"We've been spotted! Evacuation procedures!" Of all things, the leader of the rebel cadre was handing out skis. 

"Avon and I will teleport back to our ship," Blake said, resisting the impulse to remain to help. "He doesn't know how to ski."

The rebel leader blinked as the two men disappeared. She shrugged and folded away the poster showing Avon winning the men's freestyle slalom on Winterworld. Pity, she had intended to ask him to autograph it.


	8. The Fruits of Victory

"Blake, you want to impress the masses. On Guava Prime, the winners of this contest are honoured, and feted, and best of all, invited to the presidential palace for a private dinner with the world's highest-ranking leaders. Surely it's worth the attempt?"

Blake looks at Avon, dubiously. "Avon... this is an _erotic_ fruit-eating contest."

Avon shrugs. "So?" He grins. "I still remember what you did with that bunch of grapes."

"It's a _team_ erotic fruit-eating contest."

"So? Do you remember what I did with the casaba?"

***

Avon hurries to sign them in whilst Blake is socializing with other contestants. The last thing he wants is for Blake to see the rules. If he knew that the Grand Prize Winners receive, in addition to their dinner with the leaders, a solid gold statuette, he would probably refuse to participate in Avon's mercenary scheme. But once it is won, he can't very well turn it down, or deny Avon his share in the melted-down gold.

***

A very messy two hours later, Avon's plan succeeds.

The announcer holds Avon's and Blake's hands high, while the stadium audience rises to its feet and cheers wildly, and presumably the home audience does as well. "This year's champions are Kerr Avon and Roj Blake! Winning in the bonus round with Kerr's stylish deep-throating two bananas simultaneously! You must be very proud of your partner," the announcer says to Blake.

Blake grins. "Well, I did help him with his training."

Avon attempts a glare, but reminds himself that he has out-smarted Blake, and it's best to let Blake have something to console himself.

A young man and woman enter the stage, pushing a covered table.

"And now, to present your trophy! Which of you will receive it?"

"I will!" Avon says, grinning.

Blake looks momentarily annoyed, then laughs, having suspected something all along. "All right, he will."

The announcer smiles brightly, and pulls the cover off the table. "The Golden Willie!"

Avon stares greedily. The statue is twelve inches of gleaming, smoothly polished gold. He reaches for it, but the announcer is already handing it to Blake.

Blake studies the statue. It appears to be a golden cucumber, with a huge peach nestled at its base. It looks... well, Blake suppresses a smile. Next the announcer hands Blake a cut-crystal cruet. "Only the finest for our winners! Extra-virgin olive oil, imported from Earth!"

The competitor's table retracts into the stage and a moment later a large, padded, red velvet 'loveseat' rises to take its place, spot-lights focussed on it, and a world-wide audience watching. "Present the Willie, Roj Blake!"

Blake's grin widens.


	9. Toothy

Blake lay down on his back on the warm marble slab in the hot room, sweat beads sliding over his body. He didn't really see the necessity of a Hot Rebel Calendar, but Jenna had thought it would be an excellent money-maker. It was a pity Liberator had so little money; Jenna assured him that she and Vila had searched everywhere while they were traveling to Cygnus Alpha to rescue him and Gan. Well, it was her ship, she should know.

The photographer directed Blake to take off his towel. What the hell, Blake had nothing to be ashamed of. At least he hadn't thought so, but the photographer shook his head. The man smiled, showing an excessive expanse of blazingly white teeth. "That won't do, Blake. It spoils the whole look. You have to be shaved."

"I haven't any chest hair, Tarrant," Blake replied grumpily. He wanted this over with. He'd noticed a dark-haired man eyeing him up in the warm room, and he wanted to strike up an acquaintance before he left. That man had chest hair that Blake envied and also very kissable lips.

"Not there." Tarrant grinned and produced a cut-throat razor, a bowl of soap and a shaving brush.

"All this for a holo?"

"I believe in my art." 

Blake rolled his eyes in disbelief, but lay still as the brush whipped up the soap and then was stroked onto his crotch. It tickled. He squirmed. 

"Lie still, Blake." Tarrant proceeded to shave Blake very slowly and carefully, holding his cock out of harm's way, gently moving it and... slowly Tarrant moved closer, concentrating as he searched for stray hairs. His mouth opened...

And shut with a loud _clack_. He fell to the floor, spitting in fury. The dark-haired man Blake had noticed before stood there, smiling. He showed his own teeth, and Tarrant backed up. "He's mine, Avon!" Tarrant snapped.

Avon stepped up to Tarrant while Blake watched in fascination. Avon was shorter, and older, but a black fire danced in his eyes, hotter somehow than the blue sparks in Tarrant's. After a moment, Tarrant looked away. "I didn't really want him anyway. He's fat!" Avon casually back-handed Tarrant.

Tarrant snarled and lunged for Avon's throat. Blake blinked and drew his feet up out of the way. My, what shining, sharp teeth they both had. Avon did something nasty with his knee. Blake winced in sympathy. Tarrant squeaked and hobbled off, muttering about preferring women.

Avon grinned and turned to Blake. "You're mine, Blake."

"Yes, I suppose I am." Blake's cock waved its approval. 

"And I can do whatever I like with you." Avon's voice was smoke and velvet, with hints of pepper. 

"I wish you would. Oh, and don't bother with the mesmerism. You're crap at it." Blake smiled and bared his own fangs. His eyes burned with golden phoenix fire."Come here, little one."

Avon's eyes went wide and he crawled on his knees to Blake. "Yes, Master."

"Now suck. And be sure to use your teeth."

"Yes, Master." Avon grinned and bit down, while Blake shouted in ecstasy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I created a Pornocopia- a generator that randomizes a huge list of Kinks, Cliches, Tropes, and Prompts (assorted words). It used to be on the net, but alas the website closed & I haven't the energy to make a new one.
> 
> While bored one day I used it to get the following inspiration that led to this story.
> 
> **Modeling for erotic photos/ Vampire AU/ Turkish baths/ Razor**


	10. Trick or Treat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My response to a Halloween challenge _anyone want to try a bit of B7 ghost-and-greeblies-and-things-that-go-bump-in-the-Liberator-corridors-at-night fiction?_
> 
> Well... there was plenty of bumping in the corridors...

BZZZZZZZZZZ.

Avon put the pillow over his head. He was for once drowsy enough to fall asleep without resorting to pills. Surely even on this ship of fools, no one would wish to disturb him once they realized he was asleep.

BZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.

"Go 'way," Avon muttered. After all, Vila's ridiculous celebration had one good effect. His 'Knockout Punch' was as relaxing as promised, and all Avon's tensions had melted away. He'd laughed as Blake and Jenna competed in  
the 'no-hands pass the apple' contest and even unbent enough to allow Gan to play fortune teller with a polished quartz crystal.

But Vila's All-Hallow's Eve was _over_ and anyone with half an ounce of sense would leave ...

BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ. BZZZZZ. BZZZZZZZZZZZ. BZZZ. BZZZZ. BZZZZZZZZZZZ.

"Kill," Avon said softly, "crush, maim, destroy," as he rolled out of bed nude, snatched up his robe, fumbled his way into the armholes, and then lashed the belt around his waist. He made it to the door control with his eyes still half-shut, and slammed his fist down on the access control. "What!?" He snapped even as the door slid open.

"TRICK OR TREAT!" It was Vila's voice, drunk and cheerful, but...

"What are you playing at?" Avon's eyes grew wide as he took in the beaming apparition at his door. Vila was wearing a _dress_ , bright red with gold appliques rayed like starbursts across his chest which had been padded out into a pair of asymmetrical bulges. He was also wearing a sort of wig, made of torn-up yellow paper, and garishly overdone makeup.

"It's Halloween! TRICK OR TREAT!" Vila shouted, and the fumes from his breath threatened Avon's eyebrows.

Avon stepped back involuntarily and Vila teetered into the room after Avon on a pair of red platform shoes that added four inches to his height. "Either you give me a treat, or I get to play a trick on you!"

"You're drunk."

"No, I'm not, I'm Jenna! But you didn't even try to guess my costume, did you?" Vila pouted and began to collapse in the general direction of Avon's bed. "You're a sourpuss, you know that, Avon. Back when I was a nipper, everybody always put a little something out for the kiddies on Halloween." He crossed his arms over his abundant chest after two tries, and nodded. "I'm _not_ leaving until you give me a treat."

Avon considered his options. If he murdered Vila, he might regret it. Maybe. It certainly wouldn't be a quiet job and even after all this, he was still tired and had some hope of getting to sleep if he could just get rid of the nuisance quickly. He turned to his nightstand and extracted a bottle of fairly decent wine from the unlocked cabinet beneath.

"Fine. Take this, and go."

Vila accepted the wine and peered at the label for a moment, then grinned. Avon winced. Vila had lipstick all over his teeth. "Thanks!" Vila jostled his bosoms back in place and left, navigating by changing tacks every other stride. The door shut behind him, and Avon returned to bed, folding the robe neatly over the chair at his desk.

He lay still for a few minutes, listening to the quiet settle around him. When his ears stopped ringing he shut his eyes.

BZZZZZZZZZZZZ.

"You're a dead Delta," Avon promised, rising to his feet and flinging the robe on, knotting the tie with a vicious jerk. He smashed the door control, and ...

"Trick or Treat!" Cally warbled gleefully.

Avon stared. Cally had put flesh-colored bandages over her forehead so that her hairline seemed to begin somewhere near the top of her head. She was also wearing a baggy tunic covered in brightly colored patches applied at random with medical glue, judging from the scent. She beamed up at Avon and giggled. Apparently Vila's Punch also worked on Aurons. She waved a twisted bit of wire in front of his face. "Guess what this is!"

Avon sighed. "A lockpick, and you're Vila."

Cally frowned. "You guessed!" Then she brightened. "But I still get my treat. Vila said so!"

"Definitely dead Delta," Avon said under his breath. He didn't particularly want to kill Cally. Who would run the medical unit if he did? So he picked up a set of colored markers that he'd been using to sketch diagrams of Liberator's circuitry. "Here," he said ungraciously. "Art supplies." He added an armful of unused printout paper, and Cally toddled off happily, stumbling slightly in her over-sized crepe-soled thief shoes.

He returned to bed and this time dropped the robe over the chair. After a few minutes of teeth-grinding, he began to visualize himself forcing Vila to accompany him on an inspection of the noisiest compartment in the engineering section tomorrow, when the hangover should be at its worst. Avon smiled, and began settling into the covers, feeling the tension leaving...

BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!

Avon let out a snarl, and leaped to his feet, flinging the robe on any old way, and stomping to the door. He slammed the opening mechanism.

"Trick or..."

"Yes, yes, I know," Avon said, cutting Jenna off as he eyed her costume. Slinky white dress, hair darkened with shoe polish and slicked down to her head. Lots of tacky jewelry. "Good grief. Servalan."

Jenna was just as drunk as the other two had been. Avon counted himself lucky he'd left the party when he did. He shuddered to think who he'd have got a notion to impersonate. Jenna was bribed with a bottle of rather flowery-scented cologne that Avon hadn't much liked and left, for her own cabin he hoped. He couldn't imagine she'd be much use on the flight deck. Oh, well, let Zen look after himself.

"Two idiots left to be heard from." Avon sat down in his desk chair, fuming. After a quarter of an hour had gone by peacefully, he took off his robe and burrowed back into the now-cold silver sheets. "Never again. No more parties."

BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!

Avon made it to the door without conscious thought, or pausing for his robe. He didn't _quite_ crack his knuckles punching the access code.

"ARE YOU INSANE!" He shouted into Blake's face. "Don't you know what time it is?! How do you expect me to run your computers and your precious revolution for you if you won't let me sleep!" And then he looked, really looked at Blake. Tight-fitting black leather. One huge, gaudy yellow topaz ring on Blake's left hand. One black eyepatch.

Really tight-fitting black leather. Avon looked more closely, just to be certain. Really well-filled, tight-fitting black leather. Avon shut his mouth to swallow, lest he find himself drooling.

"Trick or treat?" Blake said hopefully into the silence, looking at Avon with equal intensity, and nothing at all to impede the view.

"I'm.... all out of treats," Avon whispered.

Blake stepped in, pushing Avon back into the room by sheer force of will. "Not from where I'm standing, you're not," Blake said in a tone of pure admiration. "Now, what was that about going to bed?"

***

BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!

"Hullo. No, wait... Trick or treat!" Gan called out. He noticed that Avon's door wasn't firmly shut, but kept trying to close only to encounter a shiny black boot.

"Not very tidy," Gan chided, and stepped into the room to pick up the boot to relieve the over-worked door mechanism. He rose, boot in hand, and turned towards the sounds emanating from the other side of the room.

"Bother," Gan said with deep feeling, looking down at the entwined figures jiggling noisily all over Avon's bed. Blake was still wearing the eyepatch and the topaz ring. Gan looked down at the scattered bits of black leather on the floor, and sighed.

"Beat me to it," he said in resignation, and pulled off his own black eye-patch. "Knew I should have gone as a ghost."


	11. Unicorn Sofa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the Adult B7 mailing list a 'SofA' was a Smut/Story of Atonement, usually a good-humored self-imposed penalty of writing a fic for misposting errors to the list. 
> 
> I don't recall what I did that made me feel I owed one... it was a long time ago.

"No." Blake shook his head. "It's in bad taste, it's politically incorrect, and it's too large."

Vila shrugged and dropped his end of the Unicorn Sofa. Gan yelled, 'Vila!' and just barely managed to direct the landing of the huge, overstuffed piece of furniture away from Blake. Unfortunately, it landed on Gan's foot. He hobbled away to the med unit with a contrite Vila, leaving Blake staring at the offending object, which had come to rest on its ornately carved legs (purportedly made from genuine unicorn horn) sideways, blocking access to the Rest Room and locking him inside, along with one other person.

Avon didn't bother to look up from his perusal of the Galactinet Financial Times. "No. I'm not helping you shift it. I've too high a respect for my internal organs."

Blake sighed and sat down on the couch, sprawling after a moment, arms flung over the back of the white fur covered sofa. "It is hideous. But comfortable." He looked thoughtful. "Do you think..."

"Yes, I _do_ think, and _no_ , I don't believe the legend that the salesman told Vila." Avon looked amused. "Besides, where would we find a virgin to test it?"

Blake chose a finger, and gnawed on it, not looking at Avon. After a moment's silence, Avon looked up at Blake, and was astonished to see a flush rising across Blake's face. "Blake?" Avon got up, grinning and sat on the couch beside Blake, in order to make him more uncomfortable. "So..."

"Avon." Blake's tone was infinitely soft and menacing.

"Oh, don't worry. I won't use it against you." Avon stretched out his legs, grinning.

"I wish you would."

"I mean, while Jenna might like to kno...what did you mean by that?" Avon sat up and turned to face Blake.

"It's not easy being gay in the Domes, Avon. Particularly not when you've been trying to lead a rebellion since puberty." Blake looked at Avon. "Why do you wear all that leather?" Blake grinned. "Do you have a 'thing' for studs?"

Avon shut his mouth with a click. "Leather is warm. The studs were already on them." Avon got up hastily. "Maybe I will help you push this clear of the passageway."

Blake sprawled even further. "No hurry." He sucked on a finger, thoughtfully. "Have you ever been with a man?"

It was Avon's turn to blush. "No! Look, if you won't move it, I'll just climb over it."

"And get dirty boot-marks all over it? No, I think you should strip before you touch it again."

"Blaake..." Avon found himself backing away, looking for the knife Cally had used to peel an apple.

Blake sighed again. "Oh, come on, Avon, haven't you ever even thought about it? About us, I mean?"

"No... not seriously." Avon stopped backing up when he hit a wall.

"I have." Blake rubbed his crotch. "I've thought about your mouth... and your arse... and your cock." Pleasantly, he said, "You could try it, just once." Blake unzipped his trousers, and began playing with himself. 

"Ah. Blake. I think you should get off that sofa, right now!" Avon darted forward and pulled at Blake's arm.

Blake pulled, and Avon landed on top of him. Blake dug his fingers in between Avon's legs, exploring. "Come on, Avon. Don't be shy."

Avon struggled wildly "Are you _insane_!"

"No." Blake blew in Avon's ear and then licked inside it. "Just randy as hell. Come on, Avon, let's fuck. You can be on top, for once."

Avon was still fighting, but finding it more and more difficult to want to fight, as Blake kissed and fondled him. 

"You're not afraid, are you?"

"Psychology won't work on me!" Avon groaned as Blake undid Avon's trousers and went on a direct attack. "Oh, fuck!"

"Exactly!" Blake tossed Avon down on the sofa and began sucking his cock. "Mmmmm..."

"Ah!" 

"I'll take that as a 'yes'!" Blake stripped the two of them, over Avon's increasingly weak protests, culminating with actual assistance when Avon's boots turned out to be a problem. Blake snatched up the massage oil Jenna had been using on Cally and returned to Avon. "Don't worry, I've read the fucking manual."

Avon couldn't help laughing. He stopped a few moments later, when Blake grabbed his cock and began oiling him. "Oh... fuck..."

"Yes!" Blake shoved a couple oily fingers up his own arse, then turned around, kneeling on the sofa.

"Are you sure..." Avon hesitated, although his cock was shouting 'yes!' as well.

"Damn it, Avon, get to your position!"

Before Avon realized it, he was plastered across Blake's back, cock shoved up Blake's tight arse, and humping for all he was worth. "Oh, fuck, fuck..."

"That's it!" Blake moaned and arched his back. "Oh, Avon, what a wonderful pain in the arse you are!"

Avon groaned and pumped harder, belatedly thinking, as he was shouting obscenities read on the wall the one time he was caught short in the Delta sector, that he really ought to have been wanking Blake. He lay gasping, draped over Blake for a few moments, until Blake shook him off and looked at him, accusingly.

"Sorry..." Avon flapped a hand at his limp cock. "G'me a minnit..."

"Avon."

Avon didn't like the look in Blake's eyes. "What?"

"I want your arse."

"Oh, hell..." Avon looked at Blake's huge cock and gulped, but Blake was already shoving greasy fingers up Avon's backside. 

"You'll love it..." Blake gasped and lined himself up.

Avon yelped, and bit down on his tongue as Blake pushed in. "FUCK!"

"Yes!" Blake roared, and proceeded to do so. Thoroughly.

***

"So the legend is true..." Avon murmured, several hours later, lying limply in Blake's arms.

"Nah." Vila wandered into the Rest room, bouncing easily over the sofa. "Orac analyzed it, and he says it's not made from Unicorns." He turned and blinked, seeing Avon and Blake cuddling together, totally nude.

Blake laughed and ran a hand through his hair. "What is it, then?"

Vila blinked again. "Bull."

Avon closed his eyes. "I should have guessed."


	12. Ups and Downs

Blake looked up the ladder, and noticed once more that Avon had a really, really nice arse. This was not a good thought at the moment because the constriction in his trousers was making climbing down to Central Control really awkward.

He got to the bottom of the ladder with relief, only to discover another level leading down. He hurried to start down before anyone noticed the bulge in his trousers and he had to trot out the weary old 'battle nerves excitement' excuse. Bad enough Avon kept rubbing off against him on the flight deck without him responding in public.

Avon managed to wiggle his arse even more whilst climbing down this ladder. Blake groaned inwardly. There was a sudden loud _SPANG_ that echoed down the stairwell, louder even than their boots against the rungs. Blake's zip had failed. He was mortified, and worse, Little Big Man was slapping against rungs with every step down.

No one said anything, but when they reached the next platform, Gan and Vila eyed LBM and then looked at Avon. Blake blushed. Avon showed his teeth.

Gan cleared his throat. "Er, no one knows we're here, so you could..." He gestured vaguely at the dead-end corridor leading off from the platform (typical Federation half-arsed architecture) "just take care of yourself. We'll wait."

Avon looked smug and waited for Blake to admit that he _couldn't_ take care of himself. Blake growled, caught Avon by the collar and dragged him around the corner.

Avon gave Blake a not-smile. "Once again, I am to help you out of the predicament caused by your recklessness?"

Blake shook Avon by the throat. "Do you want to suck me, or not?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"Yes, of course." Blake smiled. "Drop your trousers, or drop to your knees."

Avon tilted his head and thought about it, before sliding to his knees in front of Blake. "I'm only doing this because I value my life more than my dignity."

Blake nodded and refrained from calling Avon a cock-tease, but it was a close thing. "Yes, and I appreciate your sacrifice in the name of freedom."

Avon laughed. "You needn't go that far." He braced himself against Blake's hips and began licking and sucking with such hunger that Blake began to think perhaps it would actually not be such a bad idea to give Avon a little more personal attention in future. Jenna was good, but she was beginning to take him for granted.

In the meantime, Vila became bored and poked around. He discovered a hidden surveillance system and tapped into it. His eyes went round as he found himself looking into a control room where Servalan and Travis were watching Blake and Avon on a monitor. He gulped and dragged Gan over to see. There was no sound, but he recognized gloating when he saw it. Also lust. And jealousy.

Gan studied the scene for a moment, and then nodded. He pointed down. Vila pointed to Blake's alcove. Gan shook his head. Vila sighed.

Avon kept bringing Blake to the point of orgasm and then backing off. Finally Blake couldn't take it any longer and grabbed Avon by the hair, fucking his mouth frantically. He came and was lifted off his feet by an explosion. Avon nearly bit him.

They looked at each other for a moment, and then hastily pulled up their trousers and headed down the next set of ladders.

Halfway down the third set of ladders, they heard steps below them and looked down to see Vila, Gan and a young girl. Gan called up, cheerfully. "No sense going down, Blake."

Vila smirked.

Blake scowled as he continued down until he stood on the level with them. "What happened?"

"Oh," Gan coughed. "I accidentally blew up Servalan and Travis when I shot at the ceiling."

"But not before they admitted that Central Control's been moved," Vila said. "And renamed Star One."

"They may have lied," Avon remarked as he reached them.

"No." The girl held up a bloody knife and smiled coldly. "I made sure of them."

Blake sighed. "What a mess."

For a change, Avon was cheerful. "Look on the bright side, Blake. By the time they get a new Supreme Commander and Supreme Flunky in place, we can locate this Star One and take it over."

"Destroy it," Blake said firmly as he began climbing up again.

Avon sighed. "We'll discuss it back on the ship." He followed Blake.


	13. Xenophobia

Avon leaned up against the alley wall, panting, and wild-eyed. Blake darted in after him. "We can teleport up now."

Avon nodded. The natives had responded unfavorably enough to them as strangers, adding 'magic' to it would make it even harder for Avalon to convince them to trade with the rebels. Avon now understood why Avalon had sent them on ahead to 'test the waters'. 

Blake pushed his sleeve back to contact Liberator. "Damn. It's gone. You'll have to go up and get another for me." 

Avon started to nod, and then he heard the crowd coming. "No time! Blake, I carry a spare bracelet around my ankle."

Blake knelt and yanked at Avon's trouser hem, fruitlessly. It was far too tight to move.

Avon unzipped and shoved his trousers down. "Hurry!"

Blake pushed the trousers the rest of the way down and leaned close to work the clasp.

"THERE THEY ARE!" 

Avon snarled and pulled his gun, holding Blake protectively against himself.

The green, feathery aliens stopped short. "Oh, hey, look, they're _not_ heteros!"

Blake looked up at Avon. Avon looked down at Blake and smiled. "Well, now, we wouldn't want to ruin the rebels' reputation here, would we?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on a prompt given to me by Jaxomsride:
> 
> 'Avon and Blake in a compromising position in public - when the intent was actually innocent - not sex!'


	14. A Little Chat

"Well, we're alone, Blake. Just you, me, and Zen. Now, what was it you wanted to say?"

"Avon... would you kindly unfold your arms while I'm talking to you? I'd like to feel I have your undivided attention."

"No. I will not unfold my arms."

"Don't be childish, Avon."

"Why does my choice of position bother you?"

"It doesn't."

"Fine, then go on with the lecture."

"Avon."

"Blake."

"You're not making this any easier."

"I didn't know I was supposed to be making your life easier. I must have missed that memo."

"Sometimes I don't know whether to slap you or kiss you."

"Either could have painful repercussions."

"True. But either would also be very satisfying."

"Only for the moment, Blake. Only for the moment."

"I'm trying to decide whether or not you're daring me, Avon."

"Would I do such a thing?"

"Oh, yes. Somehow I can imagine that you like to live dangerously." 

"The operative word here is 'live'. Physical contact between the two of us is quite likely to be lethal."

"So, why do you keep flinging your arms about me on the slightest pretext?"

"I do not."

"Do you want me to enumerate the lapses in your 'Don't Touch' policy?"

"Being flung together in the heat of battle hardly constitutes a 'fling', Blake."

"No, but clinging to me after, that does require some explanation."

"I'm too cerebral to walk and fight battles at the same time?"

"Weak, Avon, very weak."

"All right, I admit to a certain... attraction. But I can easily resist. All you have to do is open your mouth, and I am repelled."

"Hmm.. I'm not so certain of that. Look, Avon, my mouth is open."

"I am repelled. Seriously."

"Yes, I can tell that. Your thigh is burning a hole in mine."

"That could be convenient."

"Sorry, I didn't quite catch that."

"I didn't throw it."

"My mouth is open, Avon. And so is yours. Look how well they fit together."

"MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM."

"Avon."

"Blake."

"You've unfolded your arms."

"Well, it seemed the thing to do, as you had yours around me."

"You do have a good grasp of the essentials. I've always admired that about you, Avon."

"Thank you. And may I say that I have reluctantly noticed your firm handling of any problems that may arise?"

"Even little ones?"

"Blake."

"Avon."

"Blake!"

"All right, all right. There. Is that better?"

"Yes. Ah. Yes. MMMMMMMMMMMM. Blake?"

"Yes, Avon."

"What was it that you really wanted to talk to me about?"

"Give me a moment, Avon."

"Yes, I can see that it's a hard one."

"Avon."

"Blake."

"Avon, please."

"Oh, all right. Let me see if I can help you come to a conclusion. Like that?"

"Yes."

"Enough?"

"No."

"Well, you are providing me with a challenge this time. All right. Perhaps...."

“Aaaahhhhhhh. MMMMMMMMMM. Thank you, Avon. I knew when it came right down to it, you wouldn't let me down."

"MMMMMMMMMMM."

"Oh, now I remember what I wanted to ask you."

"The answer is yes."

"Oh, good."


	15. Avon Croaks/He Who Croaks Last, Croaks Best

**Avon Croaks**

While convalescing, Blake insisted on seeing Avon, and his doctors finally surrendered.

Avon had been comatose ever since shooting Blake, with his body placed in stasis once the rebels realized he wasn't fit to stand trial.

Blake stared into Avon's face through the clear plex chamber, then opened the chamber.

"Avon, I love you." He kissed Avon. "Wake up."

Avon's eyelids fluttered. Blake pulled back, grinning.

Avon frowned, bringing his right hand up to touch his own lips, still feeling the impress of Blake's mouth. "Wrong fairy tale, Blake," Avon said just before he shrank into a small green frog.

 

**He Who Croaks Last, Croaks Best**

 

Sleer's troops found the terrarium in Blake's bedroom. "Tynus went that way,"Sleer murmured, gazing at the brightly colored, almost gem-like, inhabitant of the tank.

"No!" Blake shouted, helpless in two mutoids' grasp. "Don't you dare kiss him!"

Sleer snatched up the tiny creature, admiring the fearless ruby-red eyes. "Never tell me what to do," she said, just before touching her lips to the frog.

Avon stepped back from Sleer's twitching corpse, roughly scrubbing the back of his hand across his mouth. "You kiss better," he told Blake, as he picked up a gun and shot the two startled mutoids.


	16. Gets in Your Eyes

"There has been no permanent lung damage," Cally said cheerfully as she handed Avon a glass of vitamin solution or adrenalin and soma, or possibly an Auron Absinthe. It was green, anyway.

"Wonderful," Avon tossed back the foul liquid, trying not to let any splash on his taste-buds. "I'm so glad my lungs survived."

Blake said, from his position at the doorway. "Need them to shout at me?" Blake smiled.

Avon scowled. "Always." If Blake hadn't thrown the bomb that started the quaint old-fashioned shed on fire... well, they might have been shot, but Avon wouldn't have had an interesting ten minutes trapped in the center of a smoke-filled rubble heap, listening to Blake battling the oncoming guards. He brushed past Blake, heading for his quarters. He reeked of smoke. It was stuck in his nose and throat, making him feel ill. 

On reaching his room, Avon threw his clothes into the disposal. All of them, down to his skin. Pity about the boots, really.  A long, warm shower with plenty of soft, vaguely mint-scented soap and matching shampoo relaxed him, so when he finally dried off and padded out to look for a change of garments only to find Blake standing in his room he was irritated, not infuriated. "Come in, why don't you?" Avon said as he rummaged for socks, giving Blake his back in a show of nonchalant invulnerability.

Blake cleared his throat. "Ah. The door wasn't locked."

"Useless against Vila, and I assumed the rest of you were civilized enough to knock. My mistake." Avon decided on comfort rather than vanity, and sat down to pull on a pair of thick, fuzzy gray socks. 

"I thought your eyes might be bothering you. I've brought an eye-wash."

Avon blinked and realized Blake was right. "Thank you." He held out his hand.

Blake didn't give him the bottle. "It's easier if someone else does it."

"And you're volunteering?" Avon shrugged. A guilt-ridden Blake is an annoying Blake. Let him atone, and they can get back to bickering as usual. "Fine." He leaned his head back. "Go ahead."

Blake came forward and draped Avon's discarded towel over Avon's bare shoulders. "This may feel slightly cool. Relax." He held Avon's chin lightly in one hand.

"Get on with it." Avon didn't quite yelp as the cool fluid washed over his open eyes. He blinked furiously.

"Hold still, I see some grit."

Avon huffed, and held still while Blake continued with the rinse. "I'm wetter now than I was in the shower," Avon complained at last. "Are you done making me feel better to assuage your irrational guilt complex?"

"Not quite."

"What?" Avon blinked until his vision stopped swimming. He looked at Blake.

Blake dropped to his knees. Avon blinked again. "What?"

"I want to make you feel better. Much better." Blake ran one hand up Avon's inner thigh.

Avon practically climbed out of the chair, scrambling over Blake. "I feel fine! Wonderful! How are you feeling? Did you inhale anything stranger than wood smoke?"

Blake smiled, still on his knees. "Avon, I don't have to be drugged to feel good."

"No, but in order to offer me sex, I should think you would."

Blake put a couple fingers in his mouth and sucked, noisily. His gaze stayed locked on Avon.

Avon's own mouth went dry. He coughed and resisted putting his hands down to cover his groin. "You are being unfair."

Blake pulled his fingers free with a 'pop'. "On the contrary, I'm feeling very generous. I'm very good, Avon, you won't regret it."

"Ah. I only like women?" Avon's voice was rising in pitch, and he wasn't actually moving any further away from Blake.

"I'm not asking you to like me, Av'n." Blake's voice was pure sex and his eyes were molten gold.

"Oh, fuck." Avon sank back into the chair. "Suck me, you bastard."

Blake laughed. "I knew you'd have a way with pet names." He bent to his task with enthusiasm. And if Avon shouted things he hadn't meant to... well... he'd got smoke in his throat, hadn't he?


	17. Humans Are The Funniest Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the Adult B7 mailing list one day someone suggested an Alien 'Candid Camera' type TV show in which they play practical jokes on humans. She suggested the following set up, and I ran with it.

Theme music, assorted brief images of humans being pranked, final cut to laughing amoeboids...

***Commercial break for Preparation C for cytoplasm leakage***

**Cut to interior scene of _Liberator_ flight deck.**

"Avon's back-ache is not a product of stress," Zen intoned.

"Probably an alien disease," Avon said with disgust, giving Cally a _look_.

Cally flushed. "I am not _that_ alien."

"The one known as Cally is not responsible for Avon's condition," Zen interrupted.

Avon looked around the flight deck at Gan, Vila, Jenna, and finally, Blake.

Each of the others looked startled, and then annoyed.

***Commercial break for H&R Yuck, producers of Starship dissolving cream***

**Back to _Liberator_ flight deck.**

"Who is, then?" Avon snapped, as he was feeling distinctly queasy. "Hurry!"

"Roj Blake is involved."

Avon glared at Blake. "Just couldn't keep your hands off the 'helpless masses', eh?"

"I'll just nip off for the antibiotic shots, shall I?" Vila said, in an obvious attempt to avoid bloodshed. "Still have a case left over from Avalon's visit."

'Avon's condition does not require antibiotics."

"What does it require, then?" Avon demanded.

***Commercial break for Tea-kettle, this year's model from Andromobiles***

**_Liberator_ flight deck.**

Zen was apparently finishing up a lengthy list of requirements "...sufficient intake of the proper nutrients, abdominal-strengthening exercises..."

"What?" Avon asked, apparently both confused and annoyed.

"...alteration to clothing- including, but not limited to, reduction of heel height to no more than two inches..."

Avon growled, and started forward with a laser probe in his hand and a maniacal gleam in his eye, but rebounded off Gan's arm.

"complete abstinence of sexual activity is not required at this stage, but recommended for the safe development of the fetus..."

At that point, Zen was drowned out by a high-pitched scream, and a hoarse bellow of rage (the first from Avon, the latter from Jenna).

***Commercial break for Bunkin' Bonuts, bedding for toroidals***

**_Liberator_ flight deck.**

Benny Hill theme music plays as Avon chases Blake around the flight deck couch. Jenna is trying to catch Blake. Cally is trying to catch Avon. Vila is lying on the deck, laughing so hard he's wetting himself. Gan is sitting on the flight deck couch, knitting a pair of booties out of yellow wool.

 

"And I'm afraid that's all we've time for this week, gentle-beings. Watch next week, when the implanted mammary glands in the humanoid, designation 'Vila Restal', reach their full development."


	18. Leader of the Pack

Blake yelped as Avon's corpse landed on him. He shape-shifted and proceeded to rip up the troopers, eating their hearts to ensure they didn't survive the attack to become like him.

He shifted back to human, burped and patted his belly. "I'm never going to lose weight this way." 

He nudged Avon with his boot. Avon rolled limply; staying dead. Blake gingerly stripped Avon of silver-studded vest, gloves, boots and belt. Then he licked Avon's nose. 

Avon sneezed and shape-shifted, glaring at him from golden eyes. Blake stroked Avon's silver fur. "I was sure I'd bitten you at least once."


	19. Measure for Measure

"That had _better_ be a broom handle, Blake." 

Amused despite the situation, Blake felt around in the dark. "It is. I think. Either that or it's a mop. Shift over."

"There is _no_ over." But Avon squeezed over far enough for Blake to reach around him and push the broom handle to one side. When Blake leaned forward something else shifted with a thump and Blake was wedged up against Avon.

_Blake!_ Avon's protest was quiet, but furious.

"Can't help it." Blake was panting now, hands braced to either side of Avon to keep him from entirely crushing the other man. "Something's fallen against me. I think...a floor buffer? I can't get leverage."

"Stay still." Avon reached both arms behind Blake, having to press his face into Blake's chest to touch the smooth plastic of the handle. "Hmmm... I can almost..." Avon lifted a foot, trying to find better purchase, and kicked over something that made an awful clattering noise. He and Blake froze. That _had_ to be audible outside the closet.

The muffled voices outside the closet stopped, and the doorknob rattled. Avon was more or less facing the door by this point, and although he couldn't get his gun, he could get Blake's which had been half pushed out of its holster by their maneuverings. Avon aimed the gun in the direction of the faint outline of light surrounding the door. 

The doorknob stopped rattling and the voices suddenly resumed, louder and faster, with some laughter mixed amid the garble of voices. Avon relaxed slightly, and slid the gun back into Blake's holster.

"Avon," Blake growled softly. "You almost made both of us kick the bucket."

"Shut up, or I'll kick something else."

Smugly, Blake replied, "You can't. Not even if you're double-jointed."

"A knee, then." There was a pause. "Blake. That is _not_ a broom handle."

"Neither is that."

There was another pause. "Oxygen deprivation. Stress. Tight leathers."

"Yes." Blake began fumbling between them.

" _What_ are you doing!?"

"Relieving the pressure. For both of us."

"Don't _touch_ me! I have no idea what sort of egalitarian germs you have, but I've no intention of sharing them."

Blake sighed and put his hands back to either side of Avon. After a moment, he felt along the shelf. "Avon."

"What?" Avon sounded strained.

"I found a pair of rubber gloves." Blake grunted as he shifted his weight once more. There was a 'squick, snap' sort of noise. "Good fit, too." There was a slide of zips and a rubbery, rubbing noise, and some nasal gasps from Avon's side of the closet. Then there was a pause and silence. "Avon. Would you _mind_ lending a hand. You can wash later in disinfectant, if you feel the need."

"You...only had to ask..."

***

Back on Liberator, Vila was listening avidly, but the conversation appeared to have degenerated into moans, groans, grunts and gasps. Interestingly enough, Vila was still able to tell by the timbre which was which. Vila bet on Blake to finish first... but put half his money on Avon.

Gan entered the teleport room. "Hullo, Vila, how are..." At that moment, Avon let out what could only be referred to as a muffled scream, followed closely by a baritone bellow from Blake. "Oh no! Blake and Avon are being tortured! Vila, why didn't you bring them up?" Gan pushed Vila out of the way and hit the emergency recall.

Blake and Avon materialized standing up, at an angle and immediately fell. Gan rushed over and tried to help them up. "Are you all right?" He blinked at the state of their clothes, and wrinkled his nose at the smell of them. "Oh..." Gan blushed, and stepped back.

Avon glared indiscriminately at Blake, Gan, and Vila, who was trying to stifle his laughter and shrink behind the teleport console. Blake sighed, and ran one sticky, rubber-gloved hand through his hair, with unfortunate results. "You brought us up too soon." Blake grinned. "I still don't know if Avon likes being stuffed in a closet."

Avon closed his eyes and groaned.


	20. In Short

Avon, grabbing Blake as the photon torpedoes (or whatever) hit the Liberator. Blake, hanging on to Avon, slowly getting a puzzled look.

"Avon, do you have too much boning in your girdle, or are you just happy to see me?"

"True whalebone, Blake, as I'm sure you are well aware, has been unavailable since the demise of earth's cetaceans. Warg-strangler boning is always shaped like that."

Blake takes a quick grope, and whistles. "Yes, that is quite a boner."


	21. While Incest is Best

After the deprogramming halted mid-way, Blake began having the strangest dreams. He'd wake from a cold sweat with an empty aching feeling in his chest, and his arms always felt awkward, as if they should be ...holding someone. He would have continued ignoring it, but one day when he went looking for Orac, he found the little computer on the rest room table with Avon slumped beside it, head on arms, sleeping. For some reason he felt guilty, as if Avon had worked himself into exhaustion for Blake. Which was absurd; everything Avon did he did for his own selfish reasons, including the fact that he lusted after Blake despite Blake's repeated polite insistence that he was straight.

The image suddenly blurred, and he saw a much younger man slumped over an old-style computer, head resting on a sliding stack of scribbled notes. Without thinking about it, Blake reached out and laid his hand gently on the nape of Avon's neck. _He needs a haircut_. "Kerr, wake up and go to bed."

Avon's eyes flew open and he jerked awake, dislodging Blake's hand as he got to his feet, knocking the chair over. Now Blake felt really guilty, seeing the panic in Avon's wide eyes, and the rapid pulse in his throat.

"I'm sorry..." And suddenly Blake had Avon in his arms and was kissing him passionately. After a pause so slight Blake wasn't sure he hadn't imagined it, Avon was kissing him back frantically.

Blake found himself tearing at Avon's clothes, with the other man's eager assistance. In a few moments, Avon was naked, naked and hard, panting and trying to rub off against Blake. Blake pushed Avon back. "Over the table!"

Avon whirled and slapped his hands against the table, bracing himself. For the first time, he spoke. "There's salad creme..."

Blake unzipped and grabbed the bottle from the condiment rack beside the food processor. He knew it wasn't really good enough, but he couldn't wait. He had to be inside Avon, _now._ He used the salad creme hastily on himself, and then shoved the nozzle into Avon and squirted so hard the bottle burst. Avon moaned and spread his legs, salad creme dripping white from his arse.

Blake had never seen anything so erotic in all his life. He grabbed Avon's arse and shoved himself in, fucking hard despite the tightness, and Avon's trembling and pained gasps. It felt so right, all of it, including hurting Avon. He reached under Avon's chest and tweaked a nipple roughly with his sticky, salad cremed fingers. Avon gasped again and pushed back onto Blake's cock, trying to get more of it.

Blake laughed and fucked like a madman, scratching Avon's back and bruising him on arms and legs with his hands, gripping tight, so tight. "Never going to let you go, never."

"Never," Avon said, brokenly, lying across the table with his head turned sideways, cheek pressed hard against the surface, eyes shut in pained ecstasy, eyelashes dark against his flushed face. "Don't leave me."

A fragment of ancient literature came to Blake's mind. "Bare is brotherless back."

Avon laughed and his eyes opened. He smiled. "So you finally remembered."

Blake paused for a moment, balls deep in Avon, and he _did_ remember. He remembered comforting Kerr when his puppy died, and Kerr crawling into bed with him when Blake's first girlfriend called him a useless faggot when he couldn't get it up for her, and he remembered... oh, how he remembered, the first time he filled Kerr, silent in the dark, ashamed but needing so much to be loved, really loved, by the one person he trusted. Wonderingly, "I do remember, Kerr."

"Love me, brother," Avon whispered and his eyelids slid shut again.

"You are still the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," Blake said softly as he laid down to cover Avon completely, protecting him from the universe. Wasn't that what he'd promised, always to take care of his brother? He pumped heavily into Avon, and came with a loud shout of KERR!

Avon groaned softly. "Please, Roj," he begged, "help me."

Blake grabbed Avon's cock and pumped it hard, twice. Avon came, as he always did, with a sharp indrawn breath, and then a long sigh of total satisfaction. Blake rested on top of Avon for a few minutes, and then pulled out. He carried Avon over to a lounge chair, pulled another one against it, and settled down to cuddle his brother; his lover.

He sighed and put his nose into Avon's hair, breathing in the sweet scent of reclaimed love.


	22. Delta Math (Adapted from a bad joke)

"Vila!" Blake pounded on the thief's door, too annoyed to wait for it to announce his presence. The door snapped open and he stalked in, waving a sheaf of paper in the air. "What do you think you're..." his voice trailed off as he suddenly realized the occupant- the nude occupant- of Vila's bed wasn't Vila. "Er. Avon." Blake's cheeks warmed as he went red with embarrassment. 

"Yes?" Avon replied calmly. He was sitting on top of the covers, giving himself a pedicure, and the position he was in was acutely revealing. It didn't seem to bother him in the slightest. He spread the toes of his right foot, examining the job, and nodded. Then he stretched, and scratched idly at his groin. "I take it you wanted Vila?"

Blake felt a flush rising further down. "Um. Did you know he's been collecting my wanted posters?" He tried in vain to recapture his indignation.

"You should be honored. Perhaps you could start your own fan club." Avon deposited the pedicure equipment on the bedside table, and picked up a tube of oil. He opened it, and a wild, exotic jungle scent filled the air as he began massaging the oil into his feet.

Blake swallowed. "He's been using them for dart boards," he added, weakly.

"Really?" Avon rose gracefully and plucked the abused posters out of Blake's suddenly nerveless fingers. After a few seconds perusal, he clicked his tongue in disapproval. "Still bearing high and to the right, I see. Perhaps Vila needs vision correction. What do you think, Roj?" Avon said, looking slyly up at Blake as he rubbed against his fearless leader.

"Screw Vila!" Blake shouted and grabbed Avon by the shoulders, kissing him thoroughly.

"Tomorrow," Avon muttered, as he led Blake to the bed.

 

Much, much, much later, Blake sighed, stretched, and wiggled his toes. He didn't know where Vila had gotten the super-king-size bed from, but Blake had certainly taken full advantage of the space. It had been much nicer than wrestling with Jenna on one of Liberator's silver shelf-beds. During the preceding activities, the sheets had gotten pulled up so he could see his feet sticking out of the covers. He started playing footsie with Avon. 

Avon chuckled and rolled up against Blake, getting into the game.

"Yooooo-hooooo, Ay- Von, I'm hoo- ome. Hic." The voice was loud, unsteady, and approaching the room. Blake could hear it clearly because the door had never sealed properly after he slammed it open.

"Vila," Blake clutched at Avon, panicked. " Avon, hide me!" There was no time to flee, Vila was almost there.

"Why?" Avon asked, puzzled. 

Blake looked at Avon. "I saw the ring, Avon."

"Vila and I have an open marriage," Avon said, but he didn't sound convincing.

"Avon," Blake was pleading now. "My reputation's at stake."

"Oh, all right." Avon flipped the quilt over Blake. "Shut up and lie still."

"But Avon!" Blake groaned.

"Vila's totally blotto. He'll never notice a thing. Trust me."

"You must be joking," Blake whispered, then went absolutely still, as he heard the door whoosh all the way open. Even under the covers, the aroma of Adrenaline and Soma penetrated.

Vila belched and approached the bed in a series of wobbling zig-zag runs, punctuated by the thumps, clacks and slithering sounds of boots, belt and other articles of clothing hitting the deck. "Scrunch over, Kerr." Vila sighed, and collapsed into the bed. He snored for three seconds, then snuffled and sat bolt upright, jarring the whole bed. "Avon! Avon, there's someone in the bed with us!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Vila," Avon replied. 

"Really! Look!" Vila pointed out the projecting pedal extremities. "Six feet! One, two, three, four, five, six!"

"You're drunk, Vila," Avon said, long-suffering spouse in his tone. 

"No, I'll prove it." Vila got out of bed, teetered to the end of it and looked back. "One, two, three, four..?" He scratched his head. "Four?"

"You see?" Avon said. "You have two feet and I have two feet. That makes four."

Vila counted on his fingers, puzzled, then shrugged, and got back into the bed. "I guess you were right."

"Maybe you'd better get glasses."

"I already had plenty of glasses," Vila said sleepily, cuddling up to Avon.

"Eye glasses."

"Oh." Vila hiccuped, and said. "Mebbe. Kept missing Blake," he muttered, then began a steady snoring.

Avon smiled.


End file.
